


The Warmest Color

by sdmadridista



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdmadridista/pseuds/sdmadridista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As requested, Cesc wears his Chelsea shirt for Thierry, who hates/loves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warmest Color

Cesc is finishing up in the locker room when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. When he sees who the text is from his face lights up, and he quickly taps out a reply, rushing to gather the last of his belongings. He takes a brief moment to look at himself in the mirror, artfully tousling his soft brown curls before heading out to his car. He looks over his shoulder cautiously before double checking that his bag contains the article of clothing he was requested to bring. Once confirmed, he heads out of the Stamford Bridge players lot, pointing his car towards Hampstead, praying for light traffic.

Less than a half hour later Cesc arrives at his destination, parking quickly and jogging up to the entrance of the brightly-lit mansion, bag gripped in his hand. He pulls out his phone to check it before ringing the bell, a ‘1 New Message’ alert lighting up his screen.

_Put it on and meet me upstairs._

Cesc shivers, though it’s unknown whether it’s from the cold London air or the text. He opens the unlocked front door, slipping in before anyone could see him standing around on the stoop like some sort of peeping tom. Inside, the lights are on, but the house appears to be quiet and empty. He toes his sneakers off before unzipping his duffle to change into the deep blue shirt he brought with him. His fingers slide lightly over the badge on the chest. He briefly debates with himself over leaving his pants on, deciding the shock factor of the shirt would pair nicely with him wearing only his slightly too-tight briefs. Satisfied, he heads up the stairs towards the back bedroom where he knows Thierry will be waiting.

The door is open just a crack, dim light trickling down the hall. Cesc pushes it open silently, revealing a handsome dark-skinned man lounging in just a pair of pajama pants on the bed, playing with his phone. 

“Sooo, what do you think?” he asks the older man, who drops his phone in surprise. He looks at Cesc’s hopeful face and a smile plays at the corners of his mouth, before his eyes drop lower to the awful blue shirt.

“Oh my god. It’s even worse than I imagined. My little gunner, what have they done to you?” he says with a frown, though there is a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Titi”, Cesc whines childishly, “did you bring me here just to pick on me?” He makes his way closer to the bed, hands on his hips, lower lip pouting. He crawls up from the foot of the bed towards Thierry with pleading eyes.

“Amongst other things." Thierry reaches out to pull the boy towards him, kissing him on both cheeks, then once on the mouth. Cesc may be technically ‘grown up’, but he’ll always be young to Thierry, a boy to tease and play with. Despite the offensive jersey, he’s actually really happy to see Cesc. With both of them back in London, Thierry is planning on having many more fun times with him. He runs his hand down the side of his face, his fingers feeling the prickle of Cesc’s beard. “When did you get so big anyways Cesky?”

“Mmmm”, hums Cesc lightly, “I’m not big, you’re just getting old!” Teasing Thierry is a dangerous game but Cesc feels like playing. Just like that, Thierry grabs out at his wrists, flipping Cesc onto his back and pinning his arms up over his head. He looks down at his boy, wearing enemy colors, his lip curled into a sneer.

“Oh Cesc, you’ve made a terrible mistake”, he purrs, one hand rubbing up the side of Cesc’s naked thigh. “I’m gonna have to punish you for being such a twat, and more importantly, for daring to wear blue in my house!”

Cesc squirms under his grasp, a devilish grin on his face. “But Titi! You told me to--mrmphhh”, his words are stifled as Thierry stuffs a hand over his mouth. His eyes grow wide as he takes in Thierry’s hungry wolf look. 

“You better stop while you’re ahead Fàbregas.” Cesc falls silent obediently, trying to keep his face serious. He loves this side of Thierry, the sexy, dangerous, take-charge attitude is a total turn on for him; he’s a willing victim. He breathes heavily through his nose as Thierry keeps his hand over his mouth. Thierry has to admit, the sight of Cesc pinned under him in his Chelsea shirt is more of a turn on than he had expected. He moves his hands to pull off Cesc’s briefs, his breath hitching at how he looks splayed out on the bed, cock already hard, eyes deep and wanting. _God, how does he manage to still look so damn young? He’s my fucking kryptonite,_ thinks Thierry.

“Turn over.” It’s an order and Cesc scrambles to obey, pressing his elbows into the mattress. Thierry runs his hand over Cesc’s bare ass, causing him to tremble slightly. “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.”

SLAP! The sound of Thierry’s hand hitting Cesc’s backside is loud and heavy in the room. Cesc whimpers, but arches his back so his ass is more readily available. Thierry slaps it again, pausing to rub his hand over the warm reddened skin.

“More.” Cesc’s voice is plaintive and muffled by the bed. Thierry shivers from the request coming from sweet Cesc, eager to comply with his wishes. He spanks him a few more times, rubbing the soft skin in between slaps, squeezing and kneading it under his palms. Cesc is writhing and moaning beneath him and the sight alone is enough to drive Thierry crazy. He pushes his hand up to trace his fingers over the name and number printed on the back

“How could you Cesc? I thought you said ‘once a gooner, always a gooner’, what changed?”

“Nothing changed”, Cesc whines, “They didn’t want me. Neither did Barca. Chelsea did. So I went.”

His voice is sad, and it breaks Thierry’s heart; he’s suddenly regretting his little game with Cesc. He rolls him over, and presses him to his chest, his mouth against Cesc’s ear.

“They were wrong mon petit. They were stupid. I’m sorry. But listen to me. _I want you._ You mean the world to me.”

“Show me.” Cesc’s voice is stronger now, and he rolls his hips, rubbing his hard on against Thierry. “Please Titi, fuck me.”

Thierry doesn’t need to be told twice. Without further ado, he pulls the offending kit over Cesc’s head, throwing it to the side, reaching out to rub his thumbs over Cesc’s nipples. Cesc moans his approval, back arching. He leans down to swipe a hot tongue over the hard points, his hands roaming all over Cesc's upper body, fingers tracing the defined muscles on his abs. He reaches a hand between their bodies to stroke at Cesc's cock, warm and alive, throbbing in his grip, groaning at the reaction he gets from Cesc. He quickly pulls his pants off and grabs his own dick, pulling at them together with one hand, dark against light.

He reaches over to the nightstand, eager fingers fumbling to try and find lube, as Cesc takes up the task of jerking him off, urging his cock closer to his mouth. He nearly drops the bottle as Cesc's lips wrap around the head, tongue teasing at the slit. 

"Fuck Cesc, you look so hot with my cock in your mouth", he grunts looking down at the boy, pink lips stretched around him, dark eyelashes fluttering as he thrusts lightly. It takes restraint on Thierry's part to not shove all the way down his throat. "Remember the first time you sucked me, in the locker room after everyone else had left. God, you were so young and inexperienced, but you were a fast learner and I loved teaching you. We're gonna spend so much time together again Cescky, I missed this so much. I missed you so much." He groans as Cesc swallows him down to his balls, desperately pulling back before he cums prematurely.

Cesc's eyes glaze over with the memory of their first time, or maybe for the indescribable lust he's feeling for Thierry right now. Without him realizing what's happening, Thierry has found a use for the Chelsea shirt, one that works for both of them. He uses it to ties Cesc's hands together up over his head, grinning down at his handiwork. He unscrews the lube, dripping it on his fingers, dancing them over Cesc's balls ticklishly, before moving lower, circling and massaging at the spot he was craving, not pushing in yet, just testing the waters.

“More.” Cesc repeats his begging from earlier, only now he’s more vulnerable, tied up, unable to force Thierry into giving him ‘more’. Thierry can’t deny him though, his sweet, favorite boy, tied up like a treat for him. He give him more, pushing a long elegant finger into him, biting his lip to hide his smile as Cesc tenses beautifully under him, adjusting to the feeling as he slowly moves in and out. He adds a second finger, curling them inside Cesc, searching for that secret spot that makes Cesc moan _“Fuck!”_ , when he finds it, writhing under him, completely submissive.

As beautiful as Cesc looks wrapped around his fingers, Thierry can’t resist any longer, so he quickly slicks himself up while leaning down to kiss Cesc, his tongue everywhere in his mouth, before pulling back to bite his lower lip, trapping it between his teeth, stretching it out. Their eyes meet and Thierry slowly enters him, strong arms pinning Cesc’s bound arms into the mattress. He pauses to give Cesc a second to get accustomed to his considerable length, and as he gazes down on him he feels a surge of emotion. It doesn’t matter if Cesc wears red, blue, yellow, white, because he’s going to love him no matter what

“Please Titi, move!”, Cesc begs, his swollen bottom lip turned in a desperate pout and it spurs Thierry into action. He grasps Cesc by the back up his knees, shoving them up into his chest so he has a better angle, better for Cesc too as he hits his prostate with every thrust into him. He rolls his hips, circling them so Cesc can deeply feel every inch of him. The moans and cries escaping Cesc’s mouth are filthy, dirty, so achingly hot and Thierry fucks him harder so he won’t stop.

Cesc is a sweat-soaked mess, his inability to grab Thierry is driving him out of his mind and every time Thierry pushes his button his cock leaks more pre-cum onto his tight stomach. He can feel his orgasm approaching rapidly and Thierry has barely even touched his dick yet. He thrashes against his bondage, arching his back so he can try and get a little friction against Thierry’s stomach.

Thankfully, finally Thierry reaches down between their bodies that are thrusting and grinding together and grabs hold of Cesc’s cock, running his thumb over the slit, making Cesc sob for the glorious pleasure he’s receiving. It takes less than a half dozen pulls before he’s cumming, his legs wrapped tight around Thierry’s back, toes curling, body shuddering violently. Thierry is only a couple thrusts behind him, falling apart on top of Cesc with a drawn out groan. 

They lie together, panting and Thierry strokes Cesc’s face as he tries to catch his breath. It’s a moment before he realizes Cesc is still tied up and he rushes to undo the knot, tired fingers fumbling to release him. He uses the shirt to clean up Cesc’s sticky chest, gently rubbing off the remnants of his climax.

“Well there’s something that wretched thing is good for!”, he giggles, tossing it aimlessly to the side.

Cesc rubs at his tender wrists, grinning contentedly. “Don’t lie Titi, you know you loved it!”

“No mon amor, I love you, no matter what color you’re in. Although I prefer you like this, nothing to hide that beautiful body!”

Cesc swats him lightly on his bicep, “Love you too old man.” He snuggles up to Thierry, pulling the covers over them and falling asleep instantly. Thierry resists sleep for just a few extra minutes so he can watch him doze off, moulded to his chest, before giving in and falling asleep himself, arms wrapped around his favorite person.


End file.
